“The Secret Garden,” by Frances Hodgson Burnett, 1911, would be judged “one of the best children’s books of the 20th Century.”
It began with a tragedy, a locked gate, and a buried key.
Such is life is it not?
That which could have been, should have been, becomes what might have been.
“Grief,” someone said, “is a grave with both ends kicked out.”
Great loss, where once there was great love, can be like a lock snapped shut, and can keep us forever wandering within the confines of our own sorrows.
Yes, to answer my rhetorical question, love and loss are life.
As are locks.
And keys.
“There is no safe investment,” wrote C.S. Lewis in his book “The Four Loves.”
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken.”
So, if loss is the lock, and grief is the gate, then who holds the key?
The one who has likewise suffered much, the one whose own dreams were shattered, they are the one who can hear with their own heart the faint beat of yours, and they are the one who then turns the key.
As one of the best children’s books of the 20th Century began with a tragedy, a locked gate, and a buried key, so does your story begin again with the one who holds the key.
Beautiful and profound.